


He's Not a Sad Serial Killer, He's My Brother

by eeyore9990



Series: 30 Thankful Days [13]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Minor Injuries, Single Parent Stiles Stilinski, Single Parents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-14
Updated: 2015-11-14
Packaged: 2018-05-01 12:53:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5206619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eeyore9990/pseuds/eeyore9990
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles attacks a mass murdering psycho killer with a heavy stoneware popcorn bowl like the bad ass he is.  The only problem is the guy he attacks isn't actually a mass murdering psycho killer.  Oops.</p>
            </blockquote>





	He's Not a Sad Serial Killer, He's My Brother

**Author's Note:**

  * For [faerielissa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/faerielissa/gifts).



> 30 Thankful Days, Day 13: Gift for everylineeverystory

"Sam?" Stiles called, setting the huge mixing bowl of popcorn on the coffee table as he looked under pillows and Sam's backpack and piles of mail in an attempt to find the remote. "I'm starting the movie!" 

Sam came skidding into the room on sock-covered feet, her "Nuh uh" muffled under the plastic hockey mask she was wearing. "I've got the clicker!" she shouted, then hopped onto the back of the sofa, taunting him with it. Or attempting to, anyway. As soon as Stiles sat down and shoved a handful of popcorn in his mouth, she hurriedly collapsed onto the cushion beside him, nearly stabbing him with her rubber knife in her haste to get at the buttery flavored goodness. 

While she was distracted, Stiles snatched the remote from her grip and pushed play, wrapping his arm around his daughter's shoulders and settling in for a wonderful night filled with cheesy 80's slasher flicks. 

"Happy Friday the 13th, baby," he murmured, dropping a kiss on her curls. 

"Right back atcha, Daddy. Now, shh." 

\-- 

Stiles stretched, glancing at the clock and then down at Sam to see how she was doing. Her mask had been abandoned during the first thirty minutes of the original Friday the 13th movie due to it making her feel sticky and hot and uncomfortable. But her heat-splotched skin was back to its normal complexion and she was staring raptly at the screen, so he thought it was probably okay to get up and go refill the popcorn. 

As he rounded the couch, he idly glanced out the window and… 

His scream was high-pitched, terror helping him achieve an octave that no post-puberty man should be able to hit. Standing outside their living room window was a great, hulking man, his shoulders at least as broad as the width of the window itself. He was glaring in at Stiles and Sam, eyes narrowed, and there was something in his hand that looked a disturbing amount like the fake knife Sam had discarded along with her mask. 

When he thought back on the moment later, Stiles would remember the next moments with a little fuzziness around the edges, but he was fairly certain they went something like this. 

First, he noticed the lurking, psycho-killer-possibly-Jason-Vorhees-come-to-life. Then he screamed, alerting Sam to the possibility of their impending gruesome deaths. While she took up screaming along with him, Stiles launched the bowl in his hands at the window which, due to the fact that it was heavy stoneware, crashed _through_ the window and smacked the dude standing out there right in the chest, causing him to stumble backward, nearly falling over the railing of their front porch. And then, for absolutely no reason at all, a _cat_ leapt on the man, all claws and hissing screeches. 

It was the last bit that knocked Stiles out of his panic and into _what the fuck_ territory. The cat was simply too incongruous to fit with the psycho serial killer movie that was playing out in Stiles' head. 

"Oh my god!" Stiles shouted, mostly to hear himself over the sound of Sam's continued shrieks. Running to the window, he carefully leaned out to look at the man trying to get the cat to release him and said, "Oh my _god_ " again because seriously. What the _fuck_? "What are you… Who are you? Why were you… Jesus, dude, just… Stay there, I'm coming out." 

Stiles hurried to his front door, leveling a stern look accompanied by a finger wave at Sam and admonishing her to, "Stay here." Considering the fact that she was curled up in the corner of the couch with a blanket pulled up to her eyes and her fake knife clutched in her fist, he felt pretty secure in leaving her alone to deal with their hapless intruder. Though… Stiles reached into the middle of the coat rack and lifted out his trusty baseball bat, smacking it against his opposite palm for good measure. 

"Be careful, Daddy," Sam whispered. 

With a solemn nod, Stiles yanked open the door and walked out, bat held at a threatening angle. By the time he closed the door behind himself, the lurker on his porch had managed to disentangle the cat's claws from his face, though Stiles could see faint streaks of red where it had dug in deep. He couldn't hold back a commiserating wince -- there was a reason Stiles didn't own any cats. 

"Are you okay?" Stiles asked, because sudden visions of homeowner's policies and lawsuits for stoneware to the chest were dancing in his head. 

"I'm fine," the man said, his voice somehow light and gruff all at once. His gaze, locked on the ground near Stiles' feet jerked up once to meet Stiles' before dropping down again while he held up the cat. "Sorry about." He sort of hooked an elbow at the window, eyes crinkling in a nearly-invisible wince. "I was watching my sister's cat and--" 

"Oh shit, that's Colby Cheese," Stiles said, lowering his arm and stepping forward to stretch out a hand to run it over Colby's ruffled fur. The cat meowed loudly, obviously unhappy with the events of the evening. "That's Laura's cat." Stiles narrowed his eyes at the guy, sweeping a discerning gaze over him. And then doing it again, a little slower, to allow his brain to fully analyze and appreciate the entire _whoa, yum_ that was standing in front of him. "You're Laura's _brother_?!" 

Although, really, he took umbrage with himself over the tone of surprise, because Laura was hot like fire and apparently that was a dominant gene in the Hale family. Hot diggity damn. Dark hair, pale eyes, beautiful scruff and eyebrows that could judge a man at fifty paces. 

"Yeah, I'm… house sitting. She had to go out of town." 

"Right, right, Sheriff's convention. She's with my dad." Stiles dropped his bat, hands trying to do too many things as he reached for the cat and Hottie Hale's _face_ and his own foot because he'd dropped the bat on _top of his toes_. "Ow, shit. Sorry, sorry. Okay, look, I'm sorry. My daughter and I were watching Friday the 13th and I looked up and saw you and… Yeah. Jason Vorhees." 

"Derek Hale," Hottie Hale muttered, tightening his grip on Colby and curling around him a little. Like he thought _Stiles_ was going to murder the cat. Though why he decided to exchange social niceties with a guy he obviously thought was a danger to his sister's cat, Stiles didn't know, but hey. 

He could do small talk. 

"Oh, yeah. Sorry, I'm Stiles Stilinski." 

Derek frowned and looked up, confusion pulling his eyebrows together. "I thought you said… Jason?" 

Blinking, Stiles tilted his head. "Jason… is the killer? In the movie? Friday the 13th?" 

And oooh, the judgement in those eyebrows burned Stiles' soul. "You're letting your daughter watch a movie about a killer?" 

Stiles rolled his eyes; Derek wasn't the only one capable of being judgy. "Dude. Today is _literally_ Friday the 13th. Now, do you want to come in so I can clean up those scratches, or do you want to go back to Laura's and like, I dunno, die of cat scratch fever?" 

Derek squinted at Stiles, then looked down at the cat, glanced quickly across the street at Laura's house, and back through the shattered window at Sam. "I…" 

"Trust me when I say I have a fully stocked first aid kit, and Laura probably dresses her own wounds with maxi pads." 

Grimacing, Derek nodded and said, "I should probably go put the cat back in the house first." 

"Yeah, probably. I don't want him cutting himself on glass if he tries bolting out it." 

And then they were both left staring at the shattered remains of the window until sudden laughter began to bubble up Stiles' throat. 

"What?" 

Stiles waved his hand at the window, then at Derek, then just waved it around at the world. "Dude, just… _this_. Sam will be telling her _grandchildren_ about this." 

Derek's face softened, a small smile curving his lips and turning him from _hot like burning_ to _omg aww so adorable_. Stiles had to literally bite his lips closed to keep himself from making any cooing noises. 

"Okay, I'll just… be back." 

"I'll be back," Stiles intoned in his best Schwarzenegger voice, throwing up a Vulcan sign for good measure. 

Derek just wrinkled his forehead before shaking his head and carefully stepping off the porch and walking away, little tinkles of glass falling from his shoes and clothes like his very own background music. 

"Is he coming back, Daddy?" Sam asked and Stiles whirled to see her framed in the open doorway and not, thankfully, anywhere near the window. 

"Yeah, baby. I figured we could patch him up here better than he could on his own at Miss Laura's." 

"That's her brother?" Sam asked, the evidence of her eavesdropping on their conversation absolutely _not_ surprising Stiles. She was, after all, his daughter. 

"Well, that's what he said. I'm gonna call Laura just to verify before he comes back, but--" 

Sam held up her phone, where he could see the name of the last person called was _Grandpa._ "One step ahead of you. Miss Laura was with Grandpa at the dinner thing, and she said if he looked like a sad serial killer, it was definitely her brother." 

They both turned and looked across the street at the door Derek had disappeared through. 

"Yeah," Stiles said, nodding slowly. "Think that's our guy." 

Sam sighed, nodding along with him. "I'll go get the first aid kit. Think he'll actually come back?" 

Almost as soon as she asked that, the door to Laura's house opened again, and Derek stepped out, dragging his foot behind him as he obviously tried to keep Colby from bolting out the door. Stiles didn't bother stifling his soft laughter. "Okay, kiddo. Get the kit. And some shoes! I don't want you barefoot down here for a week!" 

Sam snapped a smart salute before turning on her heel to fetch the kit. 

\-- 

Stiles pressed his fingers to the underside of Derek's jaw, moving the side of his face into better light. "This one looks pretty deep," he murmured, slowly wiping the disinfectant-wet cotton swab over Derek's skin. He winced in empathy, then blew over it, knowing how the disinfectant stung. "Sorry," he said, fumbling with wet fingers for the Neosporin and band aids. 

"It's fine. Not your fault." The softness of Derek's voice surprised Stiles all over again and he looked down, getting caught in the kind of remarkable beauty of Derek's eyes. 

After the silence stretched out and became tinged with _awkward_ , Stiles wrinkled his nose at himself and shrugged. "If I hadn't thrown the bowl at you, you'd probably have managed to grab Colby without getting injured." 

"They're tiny scratches, not amputated limbs. And I didn't even see him until you startled him, so." Derek must have understood Stiles' arched eyebrows because he rushed to explain, "When he got out, he darted toward your house, which was why I was looking in. I'd actually been searching for him through your yard and around the house for a few minutes, but I saw you had a pet door on the back and…" 

Stiles blinked, mouth dropping open to question that before he snapped it shut again. "Oh, right. Yeah, the previous owners had Yorkies, I think." He unwrapped the Batman bandaid and placed it carefully over the ointment-shiny scratch he'd already cleaned. "You, my friend, are going to look like Gotham threw up all over you by the time we're done." 

"I don't care. Thank you for this. And I'll… Um, I'll come back tomorrow morning to get measurements on the window--" 

"What?" Stiles jerked back from where he'd been inspecting a tiny scratch at the tip of Derek's ear that was already scabbed over. "No, dude, you don't have to do that. I'm the one who broke the damn thing." 

"Only because I was looking in it like some creep. That was… stupid." Derek's face flushed, the ear Stiles was still clinging to turning a little hot under his fingers as it went red right to the tip. "I should have knocked and told you what was going on." 

Stiles slowly lowered his hand, biting at his lip as he studied Derek. Derek, who was obviously uncomfortable around new people but who had come back to face Stiles' questionably-gentle care and whatever anger Stiles might have been harboring over the whole, actually-hilarious evening. "My homeowner's policy will cover the window--" 

"I'm a contractor; they'd probably just call my company anyway." Derek was looking up at him, mouth set in a firm line and eyes gleaming. Stubborn. "It looks like a standard-sized window. I'm sure I have one at our warehouse that would fit the opening." 

Crossing his arms over his chest, Stiles nodded slowly. "Fine. But if I let you replace the window, you have to let me cook you dinner." 

Lips parting in apparent shock, Derek just sat there for a minute before he nodded once, looking a little alarmed and a lot uncertain. 

"For the next week until Laura's back from her convention," Stiles tacked on hurriedly, not having expected Derek to give in so easily. 

At that, Derek ducked his head down before glancing somewhat shyly up at Stiles through his lashes. With his Batman logo'd forehead. Stiles bit his lips closed again, just to be safe. "That… sounds g--" 

"Yay!" Sam shrieked, causing them both to jump, startled. 

"Jesus Christ, Sam!" 

"Oh," Derek said, his tone a little far away. Like he was just thinking about something. "Um, your wife…" 

Stiles showed off his ring-free hands like he was introducing a grand prize in a contest. "Just to be clear," he said, then turned and glared at Sam until she backed away down the hallway, lifting her shoulders at him and mouthing _what?!_ as she retreated. Shutting the door for good measure, he turned back to Derek and took a breath before continuing. "Tomorrow, when I cook dinner for you? That's my way of apologizing for throwing my popcorn bowl at you. Sunday dinner will be to thank you for replacing the window which _you do not have to do._ And every night after that? Totally counts as a date. So if you show up after Sunday, there _will_ be expectations." 

Derek's ears went pink again before he cleared his throat and asked gruffly, "What kind of expectations?" 

Stiles grinned at him, relief and something a lot like excitement swamping him. "Hand holding. Possibly some risque eye contact. If you're really lucky, we might even work all the way up to using _innuendo_ in our conversations. After that, it just devolves into chaos. We _are_ the Stilinskis." That soft smile stretched across Derek's mouth again before he nodded. 

"It's a date." 


End file.
